Shellington smiled at the interruption.
"You will still own your dog and pig, child, if you ever wish to go away. My sister and I are anxious to have your brother grow strong and well. He has rheumatic fever, which is sometimes very stubborn, and if we don't work hard—"
He paused, tempted to pass one arm about the girl as his sister had done; but the womanliness of her forbade.
"Ye think Flukey mightn' get well?" Flea breathed.
Ann turned anxious eyes upon the boy, who was muttering incoherently.
"Poor little child! May Jesus help him!" she whispered.
Flea rose to her feet.
"Jesus! Jesus!" she repeated solemnly. "Granny Cronk used to talk about him. He's the Man what's a sleepin' in the grave with the kid with the same name as that bright-eyed duffer who don't like Fluke nor me."
Ann, mystified, glanced at Horace.
Flukey turned slowly, opened his eyes, and murmured;